Jeremiah
by kataract52
Summary: Finally! A resolution to the X-Man/Threnody pregnancy enigma.


**Author's Notes:** In the early '90s, X-Man had a solo series where his love interest was the tormented Melody "Threnody" Jacobs. She was shown apparently pregnant and sometime later, held a creepy baby and referred to herself as "momma". And that's all we know! Despite huge interest, the story was never resolved. Editors and writers have since tried to back pedal, insinuating that the baby _might_ not have been hers… or maybe it _is_ hers but _not_ Nate's. Here is my attempt to fill in the gaps.

 **Jeremiah**

" _What are we coming to?  
No room for me, no fun for you  
I think about a world to come  
Where the books were found by the Golden ones  
Written in pain, written in awe  
By a puzzled man who questioned  
What we came here for  
All the strangers came today  
And it looks as though they're here to stay."  
~Oh! You Pretty Things by David Bowie_

Jeremiah wasn't what you'd call a "passer". He was a mutant and it showed. If only he'd _looked_ different, maybe he would've fit in better. But his wolfish ears heard sound unnoticed by most; his golden eyes saw farther and clearer than others; and his nose detected things with no scent. Eventually, his words betrayed his abilities, and his long-toothed smile did nothing to decrease fears. He was hairy, too, but that wasn't unusual for a teenager.

Life was like a play where everyone had been given lines except him. When he walked on stage, everyone stopped and watched him. What was his role? The things that defined his peers had been missing from his life – family, home, class. _Orphanage_ was all he knew.

One clear night, he looked at the stars and decided he must've come from _there_. No one just drops from the sky… Except when they do. Superman had done it. Why not Jeremiah Jacobs?

Somewhere up there, he had a family. He simply had to find a way to return to them.

He dove into fields of science and mathematics with a fury. With top marks, he could qualify for scholarships, which he needed to attend universities where he'd obtain his PhDs. Manned space missions were controversial, but once he was in space… Well, it was the first step to finding his family. Sure they wouldn't speak English, he learned to play guitar (music _is_ the universal language). Equally certain they'd miss his youth, he documented as much about himself as he could. He had no childhood photographs, no record of his landing… But cameras were on every phone now, and he maintained an active presence on the internet in case they were looking.

Who could forget a face like his?

"You're not an alien," his friend Sophie protested. "We've _seen_ aliens. We can _communicate_ with them. If they'd lost someone, they could call us. You're a _mutant_ , Jere."

"Maybe I come from an oppressed race the others don't want to acknowledge. Maybe my presence will expose them-"

"STOP!" She groaned, grabbing handfuls of messy, brown hair. "You're reaching!"

"Don't be afraid to challenge the status quo."

"They have tests that can prove it."

"No," he said, "They have tests that can determine whether or not I possess the X-gene. Having that doesn't rule out the possibility that I'm extraterrestrial. I could be both."

"Mutants qualify for more scholarships."

News to him. "Really?"

"Really."

Armed with that information, he found a way to pay for the X-gene screening. It returned positive. In order to qualify for financial aid, he had to register and submit to testing, but that didn't cost extra.

Sophie was ridiculously proud of herself. That's all she did – _nit-pick_. She wasn't going to a big university at sixteen like Jeremiah and Henry. It'd be a miracle if she got any education at all. What was she going to do when the home threw her out? She acted like it didn't matter. They'd all come from nothing. Unless they wanted to _stay_ nothing, they had to be twice as smart and work twice as hard as everyone else.

…

"Wanna know the future?" Sophie asked, shuffling her tarot cards.

Henry scoffed, "If we have the wisdom to foresee our fate, we won't become victims of it."

Beneath her placid face, Jeremiah sensed rejection, so he set his book aside and said, "I'll play."

"It's not a game," she corrected. She spread the deck face-down and instructed him to select three cards. The first, which supposedly represented his past, was the Tower: desperation, despair, and destruction.

" _Incredible_ ," Henry muttered.

She looked very solemn when she said, "It's important to know where you've been before you can move on."

His "present" card was the Chariot, signifying intelligence and determination. This turn thrilled Sophie and even Henry was silently impressed. Jeremiah wasn't surprised; the three of them often made magic.

They had such hopes for his future.

 _Death_.

"I've never seen this before," she breathed.

"Accompanies the tax card," said Henry. "Everyone gets it."

She quickly added, "It's doesn't always mean… you know…"

"Death? No, I'm sure it'll turn out great." Jeremiah tried to sound indifferent.

"Not your death," she said, "Think of it as a change. It's the end of _something_ … Not the end of you."

That afternoon, Mr. Hill, who ran the day-to-day affairs of the home, said the Deputy Director was coming to speak with him. Usually, this meant a kid was going to be adopted, but no one was coming for Jeremiah. In sixteen years, he'd never had a single visitor or phone call. He assumed the visit had something to do with school or his newly confirmed mutant status. The handicap kids got all sorts of government assistance; maybe he would, too.

"Hey, Jerry!"

No one called him that but he didn't mention it. The Deputy Director was _friendly_ but not very nice. He'd learned long ago to make that distinction. There was a time when he believed the Deputy Director wanted to improve things at the orphanage, so he'd shared more than he should have. All of the evidence was destroyed or hidden. This was a game adults sometimes played, where they said one thing but meant another. Jeremiah understood that the only thing the Deputy Director _really_ wanted was a good façade: positive press, outstanding reviews, easy and infrequent visits. Life was easier for everyone if the smoke-screen was maintained.

"Do you know why we're here today?"

"No, sir."

"Why do you think we're here?"

More games. Luckily, he had a guess; he didn't want to look stupid. "I recently tested positive for the X-gene. I've been told they qualify for special scholarships so I guess it's something to do with that."

"Half right. When you tested, you also registered. Lots of people have access to that list. Not just schools. Turns out, you have a family that's been monitoring that list."

The floor dropped and he was falling but nothing moved.

"We conducted _extensive_ investigation into the matter prior to bringing this to your attention. The man who came forward is your biological father and he'd like to meet you. We're certain. Because of your age, you can decide whether or not you'd like to proceed. He doesn't know anything about you. Your name, age, appearance, or location. If you refuse, you can be assured of retaining your anonymity."

Spinning, he nodded.

Back in bed, he realized he didn't _want_ a father. He'd gone this long without one. But now that he knew his biological family wasn't on a grand space adventure, he had to know what they were doing. It'd be disappointing. He wanted an origin larger than life, but now he realized he was just like everyone else here. They'd all come from poor, dysfunctional families. They'd all been rejected.

Henry and Sophie were stunned, too, but they pretended like this was a grand adventure. They pretended to be happy. It's what they were supposed to do, and maybe if they all played along, they could make the lie true.

At a fast-food restaurant forty-five minutes away, Jeremiah sat in a booth with Mr. Hill. Neither spoke. The seconds seemed to drag out infinitely. Every heartbeat served as a reminder of every day of his life that his father had missed. He decided he'd punch him. In the face. But when at last he arrived, all his anger deserted him and he felt paralyzed.

"Jeremiah? Hi, I'm Nate Grey."

If he stood, the man would take it as an invitation to hug, so he remained sitting until he sat down, too. He looked younger than Jeremiah had anticipated, but his eyes were weary and blood-shot. He was shorter, too, and white. Jeremiah's skin tone was ambiguous enough to pass for any race except white or black, but because of his mutation, he didn't know how much it reflected his ancestry.

Nate took a deep breath and unleashed a rehearsed statement: "I was very young when I met your mother. It was a whirlwind courtship. Neither of us had any family. When she said she didn't want to see me anymore… I didn't realize how sick she was. Not that I could've helped her anyway, I was just a kid. She never told me about you. Never mentioned it was a possibility. I realize it doesn't undo everything you've been through... But you weren't _intentionally_ abandoned."

Jeremiah didn't trust himself to speak.

Mr. Hill excused himself.

"So she's dead?" he asked. "My mother?"

Nate looked away. "I've no idea… But I doubt it. Her powers were such that even when she died, she didn't stay that way. Do you remember her at all?"

"No."

They lapsed into silence before Nate said, "Would you like to tell me about yourself? Are you… happy?"

He immediately launched into show-mode. It was a knee-jerk reaction after so many years of performing for social workers and potential families. "Of course! I'm a member of the Honor Society, Yearbook, and Science Club. At the end of the year, I'm taking the SAT and plan to enroll at Cornell. I've already started taking some college classes locally and I'm excited to start university."

Nate's blue eyes burned. They seemed to read the truth on his very soul. "What do you plan to do with all that education?"

"I'm most interested in space exploration. Survival of our species is one of humanity's greatest challenges and I see colonization as a life insurance policy."

"Wow. Sixteen and concerned with humanity's challenges? That's impressive."

Yes, that was the point. Jeremiah offered a close-mouthed smile.

"I remember the first time I went to space," Nate said, "I'll never forget it. But you realize it isn't empty? It's no more 'undiscovered' than the Americas were in the fifteenth century."

" _You've_ been to space? How?"

"You come from a long line of adventurers," he replied. "If you're willing to risk your life and build a rocket… Who's to stop you?"

"Could you take me?"

…

The orphanage always had a strange vibe when someone left. No one wanted to jinx their departure by celebrating it – plenty of kids came back. The others, left behind, would be envious, and the kids taking off were anxious. No matter how fake and empty and abusive the home had been, it had still been _home_. Part of Jeremiah always knew he'd never come back, but he'd made good memories here, too. The resentment he'd long-buried rushed forth and he wanted to stay to change things. He also wished he'd never come.

It was strange.

His father drove him from the Pennsylvania countryside, which was losing its war against progress, and into the New York suburbs, which was a quiet retreat from the City. They discussed music as a form of communication, the logistics of flying, and the long-term effects of traveling through deep space. Occasionally, Nate dropped hints about his personal life, but Jeremiah didn't ask for details. He didn't want to admit how much he didn't know about the man.

The closer they got to "home", the more Nate sat up and looked around. Was he happy to have Jeremiah here? Or just happy to be here?

He pulled into the drive-way of a brick house with a flower bed. It felt like someone else's home and he was reluctant to go inside, but of course that was expected. He put on his best closed-mouth smile and kept it there, even when Nate's wife looked him over with distain. A little girl with strawberry curls skipped forward and hugged his waist – she couldn't reach any higher.

"Are you my new brother?" she grinned.

"Hi, I'm – Jeremiah."

"I'm Katie! Why do you have _fur_ on your _face_?"

"I was born this way."

Behind him, he heard Katie's mother whisper: "Did you ask him yet?"

"He just got here," Nate replied.

The house smelled like air conditioner and expensive laundry detergent. Katie smelled like sunshine and liquid Tylenol; her mother smelled like fear. He was assigned a room that didn't smell like him and probably never would. Katie was across the hall and gladly showed him her chore cart, doll collection, and medicine regiment.

"I have to take my medicine every thirty minutes," she said. "The taste use to bother me, but not anymore."

"Why do you have to take so much?"

"To control my mutations. Daddy says it runs in the family… We use to have a farm but we moved here. I miss my cows and horsies."

Honor, Nate's wife, showed him the rest of the house and gave him chores. He didn't mind. If he was going to be part of the family and not just a guest, he expected to work. Turned out, she was a musician, too. Piano. She sat and played part of a song for him. Music tends to break one's protective shell and she was no different.

He saw a woman who'd once been beautiful. Sorrow lined her face and threaded silver through her blonde hair, but when she played, sorrow became her. Somehow, she was more beautiful.

"Katie's dying, isn't she?" he asked.

She nodded, as if words were too much.

"That's why I'm here. Isn't it?"

"You're here because you're _family_." She sighed. "She has Legacy Degenerative Disorder. It means her DNA is incompatible with the X-gene. Typically, children with this disorder don't survive the pre-natal stage, but she's one of the lucky ones. We can suppress her mutant hormones, but that doesn't eradicate her X-gene. Her best bet is to adapt her DNA to someone with compatible DNA and similar mutations."

"Me."

She shallowed hard. "Nate and I both tested incompatible. So we put her on the match-list, but it was a shot in the dark. It's a miracle you were on the list, too. It's a miracle you even exist."

Later, Nate would assure him that he had the right to refuse. The procedure was extremely painful and Jeremiah wasn't a lab rat. But Katie would die without his help. He wouldn't let that happen.

…

Extrapolating his genes was agony; healing was miserable. The medicine made him too nauseous to read, so Nate stumbled over the scientific terms while Jeremiah lay in bed, interjecting corrections and definitions. He realized his father wasn't much of a reader.

Across the hall, Katie often cried for her mother.

Once he was well enough to walk again, Jeremiah kept the girl company. He'd never comforted a weeping child before, and although he knew he couldn't give her what she craved, he could wallow in misery with her. He could make her feel less alone.

Time marched on. Those miserable days faded into memory. Like an arrow with an ever-fixed mark, he hit each goal: finished school, passed physical exams, and accompanied his father on several excursions into space. His little sister forgot her beloved farm and set her eyes toward heaven, too. When they saw the phosphorescent glitter of the universe, they didn't see a beautiful, brutal piece of art – but a map waiting to be charted.

Life for mutants on earth had only gotten worse. They joined a movement to relocate mutants to another planet or colony, and Katie became frenetic. She wasn't running away – she was afraid of being left behind.

Jeremiah joined an independent team to explore the nebula in Orion's sword. There had long been suggestions of a black hole at the center, which – if true – could significantly shorted travel time. Still, it would be his longest trip to date. When he returned, Katie would have her doctorate. Then they could explore together like they'd always dreamed.

Unfortunately, there was a counter-movement to keep mutants on the planet of their birth. Alien species also had an interest. Or, of course, it could've simply been a product malfunction that left the team stranded in space. They were too far gone. By the time help arrived, they'd be frozen solid. Any one of them could've sacrificed the others to save themselves, to buy more time… But they were dreamers, scientists, and outcasts. Even with their lives in peril, none of them were murderers.

Tearfully, they made their final statements to be delivered to their loved ones, but Katie was in the communication room. She was on the line.

"I begged you not to go," she reminded him. "You should've waited for me. If I'd been there, none of that would've happened."

"We'd have a lot more hot air with you aboard, that's for sure."

"If you cut the life support-"

"Let's not waste time on technicalities. I want you to know I have no regrets. Being here… It's all I've ever wanted. Seeing the earth from here… It's worth not coming back. But I will miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, furface." She wept.

"I never told anyone this, but the day before I met Dad, I had my fortune read. The last card to come up was death. Fortune-teller told me death isn't the end. It's just a change. I never told anyone this either, but I was scared as hell. But you know what? Ended up being the _best_ thing that ever happened to me. That's all this is, Katydid. Another change. I'm not afraid and you shouldn't be, either."

The lights went out, the power died, and by the time help arrived, the crew had perished. Their stiff, icy corpses were wrapped and held until their families arrived to see them 'buried by sky'.

But unbeknownst to everyone else, Jeremiah had experienced a secondary mutation. He became a sentient gas cloud of magenta and emerald hues haunting Orion's sword. Perhaps this was what he was always meant to be. Or maybe it was chance. If gas clouds never die, he is content to live among the stars, for that's where he lives still – waiting for his sister to join him.

…

 _The End._


End file.
